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Destinies Intertwined by Fate	By : dreamingvision Category: +S through Z > Star Ocean 3 Views: 1285 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean nor do I profit financially from writing this

Chapter List
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Author's Note: This was started in 2009 for NaNoWriMo and it obviously not finished yet. ^_^ The plot squirrels really do not leave me alone. Story is inspired by this piece of artwork by blackdragon-sama at dA. See the link? http://blackdragon-sama.deviantart.com/gallery/?offset=120#/d2bblmh
Edit: Please follow the link into the forums to read the author's note. If you review, screaming at me over what I've mentioned in my author's note, I will ask you very nicely if you've read the author's notes. If you haven't, well then it's your own fault, not mine, and I will point out to the admins and mods the links to the author's note with the warnings and everything. I will also be replying to reviews there.
http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/24350-destinies-intertwined-by-fate-thread/
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Disclaimer

I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time nor the established characters from the game. They belong to tri-Ace and Square Enix. I do not profit financially from writing this story. and the readers do not pay me to write this. Characters not from the game belong to me. Please be kind and contact me first before using them. Thank you.
Note: Luther's dialogue is taken from the game.

"I c-can't believe it . . . Defeated by data! This . . . this can't be happening! Why? Why am I being deleted?"
Luther's pained cry echoed throughout the Workspace, and he collapsed to his knees. Fayt watched the now former Creator as a bright, white light enveloped him. The light looked as if its glow started from within Luther's center. It stretched outwards both in size and its intensity. Fayt had to cover his eyes with his arm to protect them from the light's intensity.
Little good it did him. The light pierced through his arm painfully, blinding him. His eyes watered like he looked directly at the sun. Luther let out another pained wail, though Fayt could not hear any coherent words coming from the man. Pain blossomed in his chest as he listened to Luther, and his feet moved towards the man. He had to reach the Creator, to ease his pain and his suffering. Too many had already died, and Fayt knew in his heart he did not want the man to die. The anger and the hatred needed to end, and the blue-haired teen decided he would be the one to bring about those much needed changes.
The light dissipated as quickly as it appeared. It took a moment for Fayt to be able to see clearly again, but, when he could, he, his friends, and Blair were the only ones left standing in the Workspace. All were looking around for Luther, bewildered and frightened expressions on their faces. For all anyone knew, Luther still remained in the Workspace, hiding and waiting for a chance to strike back at them and kill them as he had promised to do.
Fayt, too, felt bewildered and a little afraid, but he also felt a strange sensation of . . . emptiness. It threatened to swallow him whole. This was not how he had wanted the confrontation with Luther to end. He wanted to talk with the man, to reason with him, and to find a peaceful resolution to the Executioners. Fayt believed Luther possessed a logical, rational side, but it had not shown itself when they arrived. Still, he kept hoping.
His hopes were dashed, as they had been of late, and Fayt blamed himself for everything that had gone wrong. After all, in his mind, if he did not have the powers his father had given him, the Vendeeni would not have attacked Hyda IV. The aquatic aliens would not have chased him across the galaxy. People would not have died. His father would not be dead, shot in the back to protect him from the Vendeeni. Now Luther was gone, quite possibly dead. Already, his words were starting to come back to haunt Fayt.
<i>"Data . . . you are nothing more than data, and data should behave as such."</i>
'Data . . . I'm nothing more than data . . . is that even true? How can it be true?' he wondered as he stared at the clocks still ticking within the Workspace. 'I can see. I can feel all sorts of things. We evolved beyond being artificial beings . . . we're real . . . we can feel and think for ourselves. Luther was wrong. We're not just data. We're not just a bunch of zeroes and ones! We can't be! We're more than codes!'
As he stared at the clocks, the sensation of emptiness faded. Guilt and self-loathing replaced the emptiness. If he and his friends were nothing more than data, Luther performed a fantastic job in creating living entities. Fayt saw several of their faces in his mind's eyes. He saw people on the beaches of Hyda IV, laughing and smiling as they swam in clear, beautiful blue waters. Then they were running for their lives as blasts from the Vendeeni ships rained down on the glistening, white sands, claiming the lives of many as they tried to flee. He had not been on the beaches at the time of the attack, but he still imagined such horrendous things all the same.
Those faces were replaced by the Glyphian Inquisitioner's face, and Fayt remembered how the man's hot breath ghosted along his neck, and his hands traveling along his sides. Kitten. The Glyphian called him his kitten, and he pressed too close for Fayt's comfort. He shivered, feeling those beefy hands touching him and doing more than just touching. He wanted to vomit from those memories, and he tried to think of something else, something . . . happier. Dion and Ameena's faces replaced the Inquisitioner in his mind. What stuck with Fayt was how they smiled when he first met them. He had not met them at the same time, but they were still smiling. They were filled with hope of seeing each other again, and it happened in front of Fayt. They were meant to be together, to be happy and to be wed to each other, but yet they were dead. They died within moments of each other. They were dead because he, Cliff, and Mirage crash-landed on Elicoor II, and the Vendeeni followed them there. Many other Elicoorians died that day as well, and Fayt remembered how they met their ends all too well.
Finally, there was his father and their last moments together. His death hurt the worse. Biwig wanted Fayt dead. It should have been him laying on the ground, grasping for his last breath, but that had not been his fate. His father was simply a bonus for the commander. The fight to continue living and fighting then ensued. In that moment, everything he endured, everything he lived through – the deaths, the destruction, and the terrible and agonizing sense of loss – overwhelmed him, and Fayt fought himself, his emotions, to remain standing. He found it hard to breathe as he stood there, staring at the clocks, Luther nowhere in sight to see him suffering so.
'He's probably laughing at me now, wherever he is,' Fayt mused, his entire demeanor and attitude changing. He could not even look at his friends, the ones who stood by him through the most of the worst of times. Footsteps sounded behind him, and he didn't need to see Cliff's approach to identify the Klausian walking towards him – the man was built like a tank and walked around like one as well. He did not want to look at his friends. He did not want to see their expressions of triumph, could not bear to their faces filled with joy. What had they truly won? The right to exist? That was a given, but what had they lost, truly lost? For him, this was not a time to celebrate. They needed to heal, <i>he</i> needed to heal, and he couldn't do that with his guilt crushing his soul.
His chest ached, and he inhaled a deep breath. Everything was painful, so painful, and he couldn't think, couldn't focus. Why? Why did saving Luther mean so much to him?
"Hey, you don't look so good," Cliff said. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Fayt mumbled. He did not avert his gaze from the clocks. He did not want to meet Cliff's eyes, and he definitely did not want anyone to see him suffering. If they did, he knew they would try to assure him that nothing about the situation was his fault. They would attempt to convince him he was not to blame for the actions of the Vendeeni or for the numerous deaths they had caused.
Undoubtedly, they would tell him Luther was ultimately the one to blame. If he had not issued his proclamation of death, his parents would not have felt the need to perform forbidden research on their son, and on Maria and Sophia. If Luther had not issued that proclamation to his parents and their research team, the Vendeeni never would have attacked Hyda IV in an effort to get their hands on Fayt and his family. Nothing, they would tell him, about any of this was his fault. If he listened long enough, he would believe their lies.
Fayt did not want that. He did not believe he was blameless. After all, if he did not have his powers, if he had not traveled with his parents to Hyda IV, the Vendeeni never would have attacked, and thousands of people would still be alive.
"You don't look fine," Cliff remarked.
"I said I'm fine," Fayt snapped. He immediately stepped away from the Klausian man and headed for the Workspace's doors. He needed to leave, to get away as quickly as he could before he lost his nerve, his temper, and any control he had left on his emotions. Hands still touched him, hands he could not see any more. Faces haunted him, faces of the dead and his father's face. By this time, the rest of his friends had gathered around him, watching him with concern. Sophia's fingers grazed his shoulders before he pulled away from her. "I need to go."
"Go?" Maria inquired. "Go where? Fayt, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I need to go."
His feet were moving before Fayt could realize it, before he could stop himself. Before anyone could say anything more to him, he was running out the tall doors to the Workspace. He could hardly see where he was going as he ran. Tears he tried ignoring blinded him as he sought his escape. His entire body shook as he fled, and his lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. Still, he never stopped running. He did not think he ever would, either.
How long he ran, Fayt did not know, and he did not care, but he finally stopped. He ached from his head to his toes. His stomach continued to do flips and threatened to leave him vomiting, and he could not catch his breath. Tears still blinded him, and he rocked back and forth in an effort to alleviate both his emotional and physical pains. He moaned and he sobbed, but nothing helped.
When his vision cleared and he could draw a steady breath, Fayt noticed tall trees surrounding him. They were unlike any trees he had seen throughout his adventures. Many of them possessed a grayish-silver bark, smooth in appearance with pale green leaves that were half the size of his palms. Sunlight peered through the canopy above him, but it was not enough to warm and ward away the chill creeping over his body. He started to shiver as he sat there, taking as much in of his surroundings as he could. Lush, green grass tickled the tips of his fingers, but Fayt could no longer muster the strength to move.
It turned out he did not need to do anything. His arrival to . . . wherever he was had not gone unnoticed by the local population. Horses approached, and Fayt turned his head in the direction from which they were coming. Several minutes later, two of the animals halted a few feet in front of him, and their riders dismounted. They wore dark green cloaks and hoods over their heads, dark brown pants, and carried axes and swords at their sides. From under their hoods, Fayt saw their eyes glowing as they gazed at him. The first of the riders continued to approach him, drawing the blade at his side.
"Who are you?" the person demanded. The voice was that of a man, a light tenor with a slightly effeminate quality. He stopped an inch or so away from Fayt, the tip of his blade touching the middle of his throat. He threw back his hood, revealing his elongated and pointed ears. The stranger reminded Fayt of an Elf from a book he once read. "And where are you from?"
Fayt inhaled a deep yet shaky breath. He doubted his abilities to speak at the moment. He didn't trust himself to say anything. He also knew he would not care if this strange person decided to kill him right away for not answering the question. His guilt and his sorrow refused to leave him, and Fayt wanted nothing more than to forget everything he endured in the last six months or so. The Elf standing above him did not waver in either his gaze or in the way he held his sword.
"Fayt," he finally managed to croak out. His voice sounded raspy to his hearing, raspy and weak. "My name is Fayt, and I'm not from around here."
"That is hardly a worthy answer," the Elf replied, scowling. He stared hard at Fayt, his sword never wavering. A whisper in the teen's mind wished the stranger would just end his life without hesitation. Then the Elf let out a sigh of resignation and shook his head. "Yet it is a common tale as of late. War brews within these lands, and many are forced to seek refuge. You appear to be one such soul. Come . . . we will aide you in whatever we can."
The Elf sheathed his sword, and his partner, another Elf, lifted Fayt to his feet and onto one of the horses. In a matter of seconds, they were galloping in the direction from which they came, but Fayt paid no attention. His eyes felt heavy and his soul weary. Sleep called to him, and he did not even bother to resist. Fayt closed his eyes . . .
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Destinies Intertwined by Fate